Fire Defeats Blood
by xxMutantAndProudxx
Summary: "She is stronger. And I am broken. And I will die. Fire defeats blood, it seems." Dark, introspective character study of Clove.


I don't know why, but I've always been fascinated by blood.

Blood moves swiftly through our veins. It keeps us alive, sustains our lives. It leaks out of us when we are hurt, somehow managing to drain some sort of energy with it as it saps out.

Blood is blue. They tell us that, as it flows through our bodies, it is blue: bright, electric blue. The very idea of this seems strange to me. For a force that sustains lives, blue is a weak color to me. Blue is the color of the sky, the color of water. Blue should not be the color of a force that has the power to make or break you.

Blood is red. When it comes out of a body, it becomes red. It is the deepest red that can be found in the natural world. It's crimson, scarlet, deep, dark, complete and utter red. Red is a powerful color. It is an appropriate color for something as resilient as blood.

Blood is unapologetic. It just is. It supports and gives all its strength. It never fails unless something far stronger stands in its way. It is emotionless, unashamed when it fails to support its life. It is strong, but it never apologizes for failing to be strong.

Ѿ

Tonight is my favorite kind of night. Not only is it a full moon, but no other stars appear in the black backdrop of the arena's night sky to interrupt the glory of the moon.

When I was a child, I used to wonder if the moon and the stars were people. If they would decide together who was to shine and when. If the moon was so happy sometimes that she would glow brighter than usual.

_Stupid,_ I whisper.

My mother called it cute. I know better. I know enough now to know how naïve and stupid I was. There is no cuteness in innocence and ignorance. Cuteness is pointless. It encourages weakness and cowardice. I have no use for that. It was bred out of me, out of all of us in District Two.

I have use for strength. I have use for blood. That's why I love blood. The sight of it reminds me of who I have to be.

I confess that there were moments when I was younger when I questioned the integrity of this whole thing. How they trained us to kill other children. There were times when my hands shook so badly around my knives that I couldn't throw them. There were times when my palms sweated so profusely that the knives slipped in my hands. But the sight of blood, whether it was my own or someone else's, always managed to ground me again. It reminded me that I had to be strong. I couldn't be weak. I couldn't hesitate. My blood would be stronger. I would make District Two proud.

As I lie in the tall grass, staring up at the full moon, I slowly reach into my pocket and draw out my new favorite knife. Gripping the Capitol-made handle just as I was taught to, I watch the moonlight reflect off of the long, jagged blade, casting spots of light onto the grass beside me.

I'm about to prick my own finger just to see a glimpse of blood glowing iridescent in the moonlight, see if my blood is weak blue or strong red tonight, when Cato creeps back into our clearing. He's furious with me, lying out in the open. _You could have been killed_, he roars at me. Or rather, he roars as loudly as he can while trying not to give our position away.

Because we are the only two Careers left. I was alone here tonight, and any one of the other tributes could have snuck up on me in the dark. I understand Cato's fury, I really do. We are all each other has in this damn arena. But he doesn't understand one thing.

When it comes down to it, only one of us will still be standing, blood pumping in our veins. The other will be lifeless and pale, blood spattered on the earth of the arena.

_I'm sorry,_ I say to him now. But I don't mean it.

I don't need to see my blood to know that, in the end, it'll be him standing victoriously over my corpse. I will be the bright blue blood pouring out, and he'll be the stronger force that stood in my way, took away all my strength. And he'll be the one who has to apologize to me.

Ѿ

I have her pinned beneath me. The Girl on Fire. The Capitol's little rose from District Twelve.

She spits in my face, but I don't care. All I want is to see her blood, judge her strength (_blue or red?_), see it leaving her. I know I won't survive this arena. My foolishness in believing I could was just as stupid as my believing the moon and stars were people. I have no chance. But the least I can do is take her down with me.

I play with her, teasing the knife down her face. Her blood spills out red, and she gasps, trying to draw her wrists out from under me again. She has strength, _fire_, and I know it will take more than blood to snuff it out.

Because she never relied so much on a physical liquid to keep her grounded.

She is stronger.

And I am broken.

And I will die.

(Fire defeats blood, it seems.)

So I taunt her. Her little friend from Eleven, slain so neatly by my weak fellow Career from District One, Marvel. She makes the perfect topic, I note as I greedily watch the pain in the Girl on Fire's eyes.

And then there is no more blood from the Girl on Fire, and I'm being dragged to my feet by that monstrosity from District Eleven. He's shouting at me, shaking me, but I can't hear it. The blue blood is pounding too loudly in my ears.

Suddenly my head is hurting and there's blood everywhere and I know it's mine. I fall to the ground, and just for this moment between life and death I can hear again.

I hear him calling my name.

Cato.

He's screaming like a madman, running through the arena as fast as his legs will carry him, as if that will save my life.

_I'm sorry, _I would say to him. And I would mean it.

Because I thought his blood was strongest. I thought he would win. But his blood will water the ground of the arena too.

I know because I saw the fire in her eyes.

Ѿ

**A/N: So kind of a messed-up, all over the place, little one-shot character study of Clove. She always fascinated me because she was so sick and twisted. This is dark, I know, but I think it's justified because Clove was dark – and so was the whole premise of the Hunger Games.**

**Please, tell me what you think! :)**


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